Chapter VII

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JUNGKOOK

By the time we get to my apartment, the sun has already reached its highest peak in the horizon and the powerfully bright rays start to make me feel a bit wobbly.

I had offered Jojo to at least hold on to me but she seemed hellbent on making it by herself. I could see how much the wound was hurting her, yet she refused to let any emotion whatsoever show on her face.

I open the door unceremoniously and pause to let her in first. She carefully shuffles her steps with a heavy limp weighing her down but I could see that she was still having second thoughts on whether to enter a complete stranger's apartment or not. As soon as she passes the threshold, I release a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Her head starts turning from side to side, scanning the interiors of the living room. I suddenly feel self-conscious. Is the place messy? Did I forget to put my socks on the laundry basket? I was worried she would shy away and leave altogether.

"Nice place you got here, " Jojo says with a whistle.

I unconsciously smile but it fades away the moment she plops down onto the couch, ignoring the still-fresh wound on her knee. She even has the audacity to swing her leg over the edge and let it dangle there. So much for shying away.

"I'll go get the bandages, " I announce and retreat into the bathroom, keeping an eye on her from the way back. She gives me a salute before going back to studying the walls with curious eyes.

I hurry up and lock myself up in the bathroom and immediately, the sight of my disheveled look greets me in the mirror. My hair is wild, some strands clinging with sweat onto my temples and some flailing in the air like unmowed grass. My skin glistens with a fine sheen of wetness that makes me itch with discomfort and there's a pink blush settled on my nose and cheekbones. Did I really look like this all morning?

I let the water of the faucet run under my hands and give my face a quick splash. Why am I so nervous, dammit? It's just a girl. I really need to get a hold of myself. The image of her face reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place. I hurriedly grab the bandages from the counter along with some alcohol, cotton pads and a towel.

I take a deep breath and return to the living room with a forced air of nonchalance. "I got the—" I announce but the words falter when I see the empty couch. Where the hell did she go?

"You have very good-looking parents. No wonder where you got the genes, " her voice is heard from the other side of the room and I see her standing by one of the shelves, examining the tiny picture of my mom and dad, smiling at each other while my older brother cuddles my dog's white fur.

"Uh..thanks, " I manage as I scratch my neck.

At this, she turns around and finally looks at me. "Nothing to be shy about, Juan. You're handsome. You don't need glasses to see that."

"I—"

"Alright, are you gonna give me those or not?" she questions with a sly smile, pointing her chin towards the items in my hands and I internally curse from the distraction. Oh, she really did enjoy toying around with me.

I prevent myself from stuttering another word and slowly approach her. She grabs the things from my hands and sits on the couch yet again. Her condition was no better than mine. A single drop of sweat slides from the side of her cheek and travels down her neck in an excruciating slow motion. Her complexion had turned ruddy and her hair stuck to her edges with perspiration. How she had managed to run so hard in that state was beyond me.

I silently hand her the towel first. "Dab your neck with this before you catch a cold."

She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head but accepts it nonetheless, mumbling a "dab on them haters" under her breath.

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤.♡Where stories live. Discover now